


just say those three words

by littlesciencebabies (readaholic2200)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Fitzsimmons Secret Valentine, a surprising amount of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 19:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3353300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readaholic2200/pseuds/littlesciencebabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma knew she loved Fitz, but she wasn't entirely sure in what way, but did it really matter?</p>
<p>or</p>
<p>Five Times Jemma Realized She Loved Fitz, and One Time She Said It</p>
            </blockquote>





	just say those three words

**Author's Note:**

> My Secret Valentine gift for the lovely princessmelia based on the prompt "but I love you, dammit"

They were in a med pod, 90 feet below the surface.

Jemma knew she felt things for Fitz one way or another. They had an unspoken connection, and he was definitely her best friend in the entire world, but she wouldn’t think it would be “love”.

But then everything changed when he said those seven words.

“Yeah, and you’re more than that, Jemma.”

Those seven words made her reevaluate her entire relationship with Fitz. Thoughts overflowed her mind in those brief seconds she had.

Did she like him back in _that way_? How were things going to change between them? What were the circumstances of her love for him? Was it strictly platonic, or could it be more?

One thing that came out of that hoard of overwhelming thoughts and emotions was that she _did_ love Fitz. Maybe not in the way that he loved her, but there was definitely an essence of love there.

Unfortunately, she didn’t really have much time to think about life-changing realizations, due to Fitz sacrificing himself. She knew during those brief seconds that no matter what, she had to save him. It didn’t matter her current feelings toward him, but she knew she couldn’t live without him.

So, through the darkness of the ocean, she pulled him to the light with all her strength.

 --

She thought about it many times during the worst nine days of her life and the weeks that followed after. In fact, it made up the majority of her thoughts.

It’s not like she _wanted_ to always be thinking about it, but she couldn’t help it. It inhabited her mind, stuck to it, and grew like a fungus. And it was drastically affecting her health.

She wasn’t eating. She wasn’t sleeping. She wasn’t leaving his bedside.

Jemma knew it was incredibly unhealthy, but she still continued. She ate only when Skye practically forced food into her face, and she only slept maybe an hour a day when her eyelids were straining themselves to keep open.

The small chair next to Fitz’s bed became her home for those nine days. The room was eerily silent except for the staccato beeps from various machines hooked up to Fitz. It was just her, Fitz’s unresponsive body, and her thoughts.

And her thoughts would not stop nagging her. They were like an unwelcome guest that just made themselves at home, and she was too polite to ask them to leave.

She mostly thought about their future, and what would happen to them. And perhaps, most importantly, she thought about what exactly she felt for Fitz.

Everything had just been so fuzzy lately. It may have been the lack of sleep and food, but it could have been all this new information clouding her mind and restraining her from thinking straight.

Fitz liked her...in a more than friendly way. Fitz sacrificed himself _for her_. And where did that put her?

Jemma couldn’t do anything for him right now. He was unconscious, lying in a bed in the med ward. He was pale, _so pale_. She’d done everything she could, but no matter what, only time could heal.

Jemma felt useless. No matter how much she kept telling herself that it wasn’t her fault. That she couldn’t stop him, that there was nothing to do about healing Fitz even more, she couldn’t stop telling herself that.

_He saved you. You’re supposed to save him. You lov—_

No. Yes? Maybe? She didn’t know.

Jemma Simmons knew more about the human body than everybody on their team, but when it came to her own emotions, she was pathetic.

Maybe she loves him in a platonic way, in an “I can’t live if you didn’t” way, but was that romantic? Everything was so confusing.

And then he woke up.

Unresponsive, but awake.

And it just confused her even more.

Jemma and a few other doctors that were stationed at the Playground helped with Fitz’s recovery. They had even gotten him to respond to yes or no questions by blinking. Once for yes, twice for no.

But every day, she grew more and more distant from him. She was still there to help for his physical therapy, but she spent less and less time in that hard plastic chair by his bed. Sooner than she would have liked, she never visited him outside of his physical therapy.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him. It was quite the opposite, actually. Jemma _wanted_ to see him, _wanted_ to be by his side 24/7, but her feelings, her damn feelings. They always seemed to get in the way recently, hadn’t they?

And just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse, Coulson had to ask her to go on an assignment…undercover…in Hydra.

Just when she thought her worries had become full with her muddled feelings about Fitz, she just _had_ to decide whether or not to go undercover for quite a few months.

_Great_.

After two weeks of conflicting thoughts and going back and forth on everything, Jemma knew what she had to do. She had to go undercover.

It physically pained Jemma to have to leave her friends. She didn’t know if she’d be good enough at lying, if she’d come back safely, or even how long the mission was going to take.

One thing she did know was that she had to see Fitz just one last time before she left.

After saying her final goodbyes to everyone on the team, with minimal tears shed, she took the long, painful walk down to the med ward. Jemma hadn’t been there in weeks. As soon as Coulson informed her about the mission, she distanced herself completely from Fitz. She knew from brief conversations with some of the other doctors that he was able to walk around his tiny room, but unable to take full control his other motor functions and unable to form full sentences.

She still had to see him, no matter how much it pained her.

As she neared his room, she felt her heartbeat quicken in her chest ever so slightly.

To get to the door, Jemma had to pass by a window that looked into his room. Through the window, she noticed that Fitz was sitting up in his bed, trying to work with a stress ball that – she assumed – the doctors had given to him to help with his motor skills. Due to his current lack of coordination, the ball kept tumbling out of his hands and into his lap. Every time he picked it up again, it slid right through his fingers.

All because of that quick glance, everything changed. The things that she was so _sure_ of, she wasn’t anymore.

Jemma lifted her hand to knock on the door, but pulled away right before her knuckles hit the hard metal. She just couldn’t bring herself to do it. She thought she could handle it, but seeing him like that, Jemma couldn’t help but think it was her own fault. She couldn’t see him…not when her last thought of him would be guilt-wracked.

So, she retreated.

She told herself in her mind to not look through the window, _do not look through the window._ And what did she do?

She looked through the window.

Jemma was just going to quickly glance at it, she needed one last look at Fitz. But, when she lifted her head, he lifted his, and they made eye contact.

Fitz’s face automatically brightened at the sight of her. _Oh no_.

He raised one of his hands – she assumed it was his good one – and waved at her, his smile wider than she had ever seen it.

Jemma took a deep breath, hoping – praying – that it would help calm her already wracking nerves, but it didn’t.

She couldn’t go in there…she just couldn’t. She slowly lowered her eyes from his gaze and started to walk away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that the brightness in Fitz’s face diminished. His expression of hope turned dark.

Jemma tried as hard as she could not to cry, but ultimately failed. A single tear fell out of her eye and made it halfway down her cheek before she violently wiped it off.

 --

If she thought that leaving Fitz was rough, coming back was even rougher.

Between long days undercover and even longer nights, she had come to a final conclusion that she did love him in one way or another, but she couldn’t pinpoint the exact way.

And she thought  had moved past it.

(Except for when Coulson visited.)

She had spent a good two months without worrying too much about everyone. There were the occasional 2am mind rambles where she just couldn’t help but think about everything. Those nights usually ended up in mornings where she poured just a tad more coffee than usual and applied just a little more makeup under her eyes.

Jemma had turned in her regular weekly reports to Coulson through highly encrypted messages that even Hydra couldn’t crack. So, needless to say, she was curious as to why the director decided to pop up out of the blue.

Her mind rushed to the worst case scenarios.

Fitz was dead. Skye was dead. Trip was dead. May was dead. Ward had gotten out and killed everybody. Fitz had gotten worse in his recovery. Someone had a life-threatening injury.

Somehow, it was none of those.

Coulson genuinely wanted to check up on her…that was odd. She wouldn’t think that the _director of SHIELD_ would want to potentially endanger her mission just to make her dinner and to talk about gathered intel that would have been in her weekly report.

That night, she got to thinking.

It seemed like the next morning was going to be an extra coffee day.

In fact, her whole week was an extra coffee day. Plus, an almost getting caught by Hydra, then getting away with someone she _thought_ was Hydra but actually wasn’t, then jumping off of rooftops and almost dying day.

That day also turned out to be get back to the team day.

She knew she should be happy, and in some ways, she was. But she couldn’t help but feel guilt for some reason. What if they hated her for working for Hydra? What if they thought she _was_ Hydra? What if they’ve moved on without her?

Thankfully, that wasn’t the issue. She saw Trip, and he welcomed her back with open arms. He was probably the nicest person alive in Jemma’s opinion.

When the Quinjet touched down at the Playground’s base, Jemma’s heart was pounding. It was only lessened by Agent Morse and Trip—two of the most amazing people in the world, she thought—trying to get her mind off of everything. She knew it was probably unintentional on Bobbi’s part, but she was grateful for the distraction.

The next thing she knew, she was rambling about Agent Mor— _Bobbi_ —to Coulson, and then she saw him.

_Fitz_.

He looked so different. He looked … sadder. Maybe he wasn’t getting enough sleep. Did the nightmares plague him, too?

When Coulson stepped aside to let her talk to Fitz, it took almost all of Jemma’s strength not to run up and hug Fitz. But, nevertheless, she restrained herself. She put on her bravest face possible. For some reason, trying to talk to Fitz ended up being 100 times harder than pretending to be Hydra.

“Simmons.”

That one word almost made her façade falter. She didn’t realize the significance of that word from him until now. She hadn’t realized that he had only been calling her Jemma whenever they talked, never Simmons. And it hit her like a brick when it came tumbling out of his mouth.

After trying (unsuccessfully) to get Fitz to talk to her, she realized how much trouble he was having expressing his thoughts. It must have been so difficult for someone like him with a genius brain not being able to express his brilliant ideas.

Jemma wanted to help him. She wanted to finish his sentences and complete his thoughts and help him to finish his own by himself.

But she was just pushed away.

They say you never really know how much you care about something until it was gone. That’s how she was with Fitz.

She cared about him, deeply, even loved him platonically. But she never knew how much she actually would love him until he shoved her away, sometimes quite literally.

Jemma didn’t know why he was treating her like some week-old garbage. She truly was only trying to help. She wanted what was best for him, and she couldn’t understand why he couldn’t see that.

But then it hit her.

_She_ was the one making him worse.

Jemma knew Fitz was always nervous around her, even after he woke up from the coma. He couldn’t concentrate on whatever he was doing, and he always got distracted by her. It was one of the reasons why she decided to take the mission, in hopes that he would get better.

And he did. In fact, he improved greatly in the few months she was gone. When she left, he was only able to walk and move his good hand. Now, he was able to use both hands, although the injured one was still a little shaky.

So, to make him better, she distanced herself.

Jemma watched on as he made Mack his new friend. She told herself time and time again that she wasn’t jealous, that he was the only one able to connect to Fitz now. She couldn’t help but feel the slithering of jealousy upon her whenever she saw Mack complete Fitz’s sentences, not unlike the way she used to.

She watched as he went on his first field mission in months. She was nervous for him, wondering if he would get hurt…or worse. But she reminded herself to think that of everyone, and was devastated to find out that Trip had been shot. Her mind briefly wandered to what might have happened if Fitz was the one who had gotten shot instead of Trip, but she quickly dismissed it.

Then everything changed when they went to San Juan.

After a truly, _truly_ heartbreaking, soul-crushing, in-desperate-need-for-cookie-dough-and- _The_ - _Notebook_ conversation with Fitz, they had to find out if there really was an alien city underneath Puerto Rico. _Together_.

Now, that wouldn’t be so bad if they didn’t just have that heart-wrenching conversation just a few hours prior. Hell, a week ago, Jemma probably would have cherished working together with Fitz.

But now…Now, she didn’t know what to think. Everything was just so confusing now that she came back. Jemma thought that being away from everyone was the hardest thing she ever had to do, but she now realized that coming back was even worse.

But then, something miraculous happened.

Jemma wasn’t entirely sure exactly _how_ it happened, but it did. One minute, Fitz was struggling to finish a sentence, and she automatically knew not to say anything because he might push her away again. Silence everywhere. Jemma knew what Fitz was trying to express, but no one else was offering help like they usually did.

So, she took a risk and jumped right in.

Now, here came the surprising part.

He didn’t reject her completion of the sentence, and actually moved the conversation forward. For a brief minute, Jemma felt like it was _them_ again, they were FitzSimmons again. Anticipating each other’s thoughts and completing them, working as one mind in two separate bodies. In that moment, they were a well-oiled machine that couldn’t be stopped.

When their combined thought process was complete, Jemma allowed herself a shared smile with Fitz.

She felt a sense of friendship, of protection, of their unique love, and it filled her with hope. She knew that everything was going to be alright from that moment. They were FitzSimmons again, even for the briefest of moments.

 --

When Fitz climbed out of that pit with ten minutes to spare, Jemma thought she’d never been happier.

She was worried about him, thinking that whatever happened to Mack might have happened to him. Or maybe something worse. Nevertheless, she was happy to see him in one piece and to know that all the bombs had been set.

She was ecstatic, optimistically thinking that everyone would get out alive and nothing else bad would happen.

That is, until Trip decided to jump in after Skye.

They both tried to stop him, they really did, but nothing could stop Trip when he put his mind to something.

“What do we do?” Jemma panted, wringing her hands together, desperately looking to Fitz for an answer. In the rare times when Jemma didn’t know an answer to something, she looked to Fitz for guidance. When he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, she really didn’t know what to do.

“Well, we can’t just _stand here_ ,” she exclaimed. “Trip, Skye, and Coulson are all down there – maybe Mack, too – and the entire place is going to implode in,” she glanced at her watch, “eight minutes and fifteen seconds.”

She violently ran her hands over her face. She hated just standing there, doing nothing. Jemma knew she needed to help. She couldn’t bear the thought that if someone got hurt or died down there and she didn’t do anything to try and save them.

“Jemma,” Fitz hesitantly piped up, “I’m sorry, b-but there’s really nothing we can do. Electronics don’t work down there, so unless you have something tha-that doesn’t run on electricity that can help in the next s-seven minutes, th-there’s really nothing we can do.”

Just by hearing Fitz say those words, Jemma embraced the truth that they were practically worthless at the moment. She sighed loudly before plopping herself down on the ground. Fitz followed soon after.

“If it makes you feel better, I-I feel worthless, too,” he started. “Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot more re-real-realistically. About everything. It started when you left.”

Jemma realized that they were finally going to have a good heart-to-heart. Not under the best circumstances, with only six minutes left until the alien city beneath them implodes, but at least he was starting to open up to her. And that was always a good sign, no matter the time or place.

“I was op-optimistic, thinking that you were c-coming back soon,” he continued. “But after a week, two weeks, a month, th-then two months, it hit me. You w-weren’t coming back.”

Jemma felt the sting of tears coming to her eyes. At Fitz’s hopeless expression, she felt something new arise in her. It was love, but not like the usual feeling she gets when she feels her love for Fitz. This one was different, almost … romantic. Just looking at him, she wanted to console him, to kiss him and make it better, to take all his worries away.

Woah…where did _that_ come from? She quickly pushed those thoughts out of her mind, knowing that there were more important matters than a rise in hormones.

“Then…I started to im-imagine things. Wh-when I couldn’t find a word, I imagined you there f-finding it for me. During all that mess, _y-you_ were the one there helping me. And then, it just stopped. Y-you weren’t there anymore, th-the imagination. And that’s when everything hit me. You get good days and bad days, but you just g-gotta accept that things work the way they work, and that there’s n-nothing you can do about it.”

Throughout the entire time Fitz was talking, he kept staring at his bad hand and moving it around. He stared at it mournfully, flexing his fingers.

Jemma thought he looked so desperate. There _must_ have been something that raised her hormone level because for some reason, all she wanted to do was embrace Fitz and pull his lips to hers and letting his worries melt away through it.

_No_. She couldn’t do that. Everything was already weird. A few weeks ago, he didn’t want her touching his shoulder; he definitely wouldn’t want her doing _that_. She wasn’t even entirely sure that _she_ wanted to do that. It could have been her mind thinking crazy things. Something down in that city must have messed with her brain.

Yeah, she’ll go with that.

But maybe she’ll stick with a hug for now.

“ _Fitz_ ,” she started, but was cut off by a beeping from the timer.

The bombs were about to go off.

“Maybe we should move away?” Jemma suggested, standing up. She knew the worst thing that would happen up here would be that the floors might shake and crack a little, but it never hurt to be cautious.

As they hurriedly trip over their feet to get back, they felt a _boom_ underneath their feet. The bombs going off. The ground moved for a second, but nothing else happened. Just as planned.

Jemma glanced at Fitz, glad that nothing worse happened, but Fitz, however, looked terrified.

“Wait, they’re not out yet. Wait!” he yelled, rushing forward towards the hole.

“ _Fitz_!” she exclaimed, rushing forwards to stop him from hurting himself.

But, just as Jemma took a step closer, the ground rumbled. And the walls. And the ceiling.

Jemma knew that the four bombs placed at those exact spots may cause something like a small earthquake to them – just some shaking and maybe some cracking on the floors – but definitely not the whole room shaking.

Something was wrong.

The shaking intensified, so much so that it was hard for Jemma to keep her balance. She tried her best to steady herself despite the floor twitching beneath her feet. She noticed Fitz inching closer to the pit, yelling for Trip and Skye. Jemma knew that it was useless to call their names, that they were already 100 feet down and who knows how far away in that maze of a city.

“Fitz, get away from the pit!” she yelled to him. Jemma felt dust start to crumble from the ceiling and onto them, and she put a hand up to prevent it from getting into her eyes.

“No! Not until they’re back!” he yelled back at her.

More and more debris was falling by the second. Jemma glanced up to see cracks starting to form in the ceiling. If this unknown shaking kept happening, the ceiling was bound to start falling apart.

Jemma just couldn’t stand idly by and watch Fitz potentially get hurt, whether from falling into the pit or from falling debris. She shuffled closer to him, keeping mind of her balance the entire time, her eyes focused on the placement of her feet.

And then she heard it – the _crack_. It seemed almost deafening against the ever-present hum of the shaking.

Jemma quickly assessed the situation like she learned to while undercover. She noted that the piece of the ceiling – most likely made of concrete – was crumbling into pieces. A rather large piece was about to fall right where Fitz was standing.  Her objective was to get Fitz away from both the falling ceiling and the seemingly bottomless pit.

Then, everything slowed down as the piece dislodged itself from the rest of the ceiling.

Jemma ran as fast as she could against the shaking ground, wrapped her hand around Fitz’s arm, and pulled him with all of her strength backwards away from all the commotion.

At the end of it all, the piece of the ceiling fell less than a foot from Fitz’s leg.

Somehow during the act of Jemma pulling on Fitz’s arm and adding the constant moving of the ground, Fitz ended up half-sprawled on top of Jemma. Just a week ago, Jemma would have been embarrassed by their proximity and quickly moved away. She would have thought Fitz would do the same. But now, she was relishing their closeness, embracing the fact that Fitz didn’t shy away even when it wasn’t necessary to be that close.

At that moment, Jemma realized she had never been this close to Fitz before. She never noticed how intensely blue his eyes were, how long his eyelashes were, how he had just the barest of freckles splayed across his nose, how his stubble had grown across his jawline. Those were the little things that she noticed, the things that were meant only for people who were supposed to be this close.

Then, she realized something.

Fitz was attractive.

It’s not like she hadn’t noticed that he was, to a degree, handsome. Of course she did, nice symmetrical face, nice eyes, low body-fat percentage. But there comes a time when you find someone attractive and when you find them _attractive_. Like rip-their-clothes-off, make-out-until-you-forget-your-name attractive.

And that was happening right now.

Definitely not the best time about thinking of ripping Fitz’s clothes off, considering they could die at any moment.

She was thrown from her reverie at the sound of more debris hitting the ground near them. Jemma now considered it may be a very real possibility that one of them might not make it out alive that night.

A rather large rock fell quite near the two of them, and at the impact, Jemma felt something squeezing her. Fitz was holding her in his arms, keeping her safe. This was the first physical contact they’ve had in _months_ where Fitz didn’t shy away, _and_ he was the one to initiate it.

Wrapped in his arms, Jemma felt _home_. Considering that for the past few years, she had never really even had a place to call home, she had concluded that home wasn’t a place but a feeling. That feeling that she got whenever she was around Fitz, complete and utter calmness. A feeling of being safe, of being comforted, of _home_.

And she couldn’t imagine a better place to be right then than home.

 --

They mourned for Trip. They all did. Some handled the loss worse than others.

May kept her usual hard exterior, but whenever someone mentioned his name, her hard exterior faltered, her face softening. It reminded Jemma of one of her mother’s friends who lost a child. She would always have this strong exterior like nothing bothered her, but Jemma once walked in on her sobbing in the bathroom. Jemma hoped that May didn’t end up like that, but she always made sure to listen in to the bathrooms whenever she passed by them.

It didn’t, however, seem to faze Coulson at all. He was too busy being the director of SHIELD and figuring out Skye’s new powers and how to use them to really seem to notice. Jemma did catch him a few times glancing at the plaque her and Skye had put up to commemorate Trip. It just plainly said his name with his birth and death date and a small quote Skye had wanted to add. “The noise and the funk will be missed.”

Skye, on the other hand, was taking it very personally. She thought of herself as killing Trip herself, even though both her and Jemma knew that wasn’t the case. Yes, she _did_ cause the earthquake, but Trip being near the Obelisk was the reason that he died, not because of her. Yet, Skye still put the blame on herself. She rarely came out of her room, except to use the bathroom and grab something to eat from the kitchen. Jemma, whose bunk was right next to Skye’s, could hear Skye sobbing herself to sleep every night. Jemma never wanted to hear those noises again as long as she lived.

Meanwhile, Jemma and Fitz had started seeking solace in each other again. Even though they weren’t on the FitzSimmons level that they used to be – and they probably never will be again – they relied on each other to get through this tough time. They both had been close with Trip. Not as close as Skye had become, but still close enough to feel the pain of loss.

As soon as the team found them after the earthquake, held tightly against each other, they were almost inseparable. Fitz decided to stay in the lab with her again, so they worked together. They ate together, spent their free time together.

But during this time, those _odd_ thoughts Jemma had been having during the earthquake didn’t appear again. She dismissed them as a sudden rise in adrenaline and various other hormones due to the life-threatening situation that occurred.

Then, it hit her one day.

Jemma was having a particularly rough day. Everything reminded her of Trip, and at one point, she broke down crying in the lab because she saw some of the old Howling Commando gear Trip had brought in one day. Fitz noticed what was happening and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

That was another thing that had changed. There was no more hesitations about physical contact. Jemma had deduced that due to his imagination of her “comforting him” through “touching his shoulder”, he was tentative about her trying to comfort him. Now, he was more inclined to touch her shoulder or stand close to her. It felt like the old times where they would just invade each other’s personal space without question, and it was … _nice_.

Fitz led Jemma to his bunk, her still crying, him rubbing soothing circles on her back. When she plopped down on his bead, he handed her a box of tissues, which she took graciously.

“I’m sorry I’m a mess,” she spluttered between sobs.

“No, no, it’s okay,” he replied, sitting down next to her. He sat so close that their legs were almost touching. Jemma wasn’t quite sure why her heartbeat lurched when his leg accidentally brushed hers. It’s not like it never happened before. But for some reason, this was different.

After a moment of silence except for Jemma’s sobs, Fitz continued, “So, what’s wrong?” His voice was light, as if he didn’t want to upset her even further.

“I-I saw some of T-t—“ She couldn’t say his name; it was still too painful. Fitz nodded in understanding and she continued. “The Howling Commando gear, and it just reminded me of him and I—“ She broke down into sobs again.

“Hey, hey, c’mere.” Fitz circled his arms around her, enveloping her in a hug.

It was their first real hug in months. Jemma didn’t really consider the protection in San Juan a “hug”; it was too rushed. This, _this_ was a hug, just wrapping each other in their arms, feeling comforted, safe,warm, to take their time to savor it and enjoy it.

With each passing second wrapped in that hug, Jemma’s sobs were relieved until they were gone altogether. Being in that shared warmth with Fitz calmed her down even more than her many cookie dough eating sessions with Skye during particularly rough nights.

“It’ll be okay,” Fitz whispered. Jemma was shocked to hear his voice so close to her ear. But it was soothing; her now calm body calmed even more.

Jemma looked up from her crying spot on Fitz’s shoulder, blinking the few tears left away. She noticed he was smiling down at her, reassuring her that he was there and that he cared for her. That he was always going to be there for her, no matter what.

She knew there were a few bumps along the way, but now they were comfortable around each other again. Not quite like the FitzSimmons they were before, but they were a new and improved Fitz and Simmons.

It was comforting to know that Fitz trusted Jemma again, even well enough to initiate physical contact and allow her to finish his sentences. And Jemma was ecstatic that he trusted her.

They were friends again.

In the briefest of moments, a realization passed through Jemma’s mind.

She loved Fitz. In a “more than that” fashion. She was stupid not to have realized it earlier, but she knew it now, and in those seconds that passed, it was all she could think about. About how she was completely in love with Leo Fitz.

Jemma wasn’t sure when they crossed the line between friendship and romantic in her mind, only that it did happen, and there was no going back.

As she looked up into his eyes, it felt as though all her breath had been taken away. Jemma knew he was _attractive_ – she had already established that – but looking at him then with the knowledge that she _loved_ him, it was totally different. It was like looking into the sun, into her everything.

She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, maybe married, maybe a few little FitzSimmonses running around. She just wanted to be with him, no matter what.

And that’s what she thought true love was. And boy, did they have it.

 --

It was six months after Trip’s death.

Jemma had long since realized she was in love with Fitz, yet she had kept it to herself. She was worried that it would destroy their sacred friendship, and that was the last thing she ever wanted. She realized this must have been exactly what Fitz felt about a year ago.

And it sucked.

Throughout those months, Jemma realized that Fitz had gotten over her. It only made sense; it had been quite a few months since he last exhibited potential romantic interest. It was heartbreaking not knowing if the person who you loved even liked you back in that way.

Nevertheless, she continued to just stay friends with him, no matter how much she craved for more.

That was, until Fitz got shot.

She should probably back up a little. Fitz, May, and Hunter were assigned on a mission to infiltrate this abandoned Hydra base whose last known use was in the 1970s.

They were just supposed to get intel and get out.

Unfortunately, that’s not what happened.

The “abandoned” base was not so abandoned after all. About ten armed Hydra agents were stationed at the base, just waiting for the team to come in. Thankfully, just before they left to go on the mission, May reminded the two men to put on their bulletproof vests and to bring a gun in case things went south.

However, those bulletproof vests were of no use to Fitz, seeing as one of the Hydra agents had hit him just outside of his vest. According to Hunter and May, he was barely able to stand after he got hit and passed out soon after, bleeding out. May was able to take down the rest of the Hydra agents while Hunter rushed Fitz back to the Quinjet and bandaged his wound quite sloppily. It helped for a while, but if someone trained in the medical field would there, it would have been better.

By the time they had gotten back to the Playground, Hunter and Fitz were both covered in Fitz’s blood. They rushed him to the med ward where Jemma and some other agents were prepped and ready. May had called the Playground as soon as she got back into the Quinjet and told Jemma to have a team ready to prep for surgery. She didn’t explain much more.

When Agents Jones and Meyer rushed in with Fitz on the gurney, Jemma’s heart stopped. His entire left side was covered with blood. Due to the barely visible rise and fall of his chest, he was still breathing. But he hadn’t woken up since getting hit.

Looking at him like that was surreal. That this was all just a bad dream and Jemma needed to wake up ASAP. She couldn’t bear to think that she might lose him again, especially so soon after they had mended their friendship.

The tears that sprung to her eyes quickly vanished as Jemma set to work.

After about three hours in surgery, Jemma and the med team were finally able to successfully stop the bleeding, remove the bullet from his body, and pump some blood back into it.

Jemma sat next to Fitz’s bed, painfully reminded of those indescribable nine days. It was eerily similar: the steady beeps from the heart monitor, the wires hooked up to him, the painful silence. Somehow, the silence was the worst part of it all. She could deal with the medical stuff, she had to deal with that every day, but she was never used to silence. And that’s what scared her the most.

It was a close one. She almost lost him again. She couldn’t bear to think of what would have happened if he hadn’t pulled through the surgery. She couldn’t have let him died without telling him that she loved him just once.

This time, when the tears popped up in her eyes, she didn’t choke them back. She let them tumble down her cheeks and into her lap.

Jemma grabbed his hand in desperation for some sort of comfort. Thankfully, his hands were regaining some of their warmth. But, Jemma couldn’t help but feel uneasy that they were still at a lower temperature than normal. A sob wracked her body once.

Jemma needed for Fitz to wake up; she needed to tell him everything. About how she realized she loved him, about how much she needed him. She longed for him to just have his eyes open.

Jemma knew better. She knew, statistically, that with all the anesthesia they gave him plus the painkillers that he would be out for at least the rest of the day. But that didn’t stop her from staying by his side all night.

It was four in the morning when he woke up.

Jemma, having dozed, awoke when she felt Fitz’s hand move beneath her own. She couldn’t open her eyes fast enough.

“Jemma?” he asked, his eyes unfocused, his voice sleepy.

Jemma couldn’t restrain herself. Despite Fitz’s arm most likely being in immense pain and the wires on top of him, Jemma launched herself at him and wrapped him in a hug. Slowly, as if realizing what was just happening, Fitz wrapped his uninjured arm around her and buried his face in her neck.

Jemma could have stayed like this for hours, but she needed to tell Fitz the truth before something else happened. So, she pulled away from the hug hesitantly.

“That was really stupid,” she started. “Getting shot.”

“Hey, it’s not like asked for it,” he joked, a corner of his mouth raised in a half-smile. God, that was attractive. Jemma was quick to reprimand  herself to focus on the task at hand. She was going to tell him how she felt and nothing was going to stop her.

Just as Jemma was about to open her mouth, Fitz interrupted. He really _did_ have a nasty habit of doing that.

“Listen, you don’t have to worry about me when I’m on missions. I’m pretty sure this—“ He pointed to his shoulder, “won’t be a regular occurrence. Besides, I’m only going to be in a sling for – what? – a week? Less than that? I’ll be fine.”

“Fitz, I’m always going to worry about you if you’re injured or not.” She grabbed his hand again, noticing in the back of her mind that it had gone back its normal temperature again.

“Yeah, I know. We’re friends, we’re supposed to worry about each other.” He smiled again, and Jemma smiled back. She may have been smiling on the outside, but on the inside, her heart sank through the floor. He just proved her worst fear that they were only just friends in his mind.

At that one word – “friends” – she second guessed everything. Should she still tell him that she loved him? But why should she? She knew she would only get an answer back that would destroy her.

It was then that she realized that because of her inner debate, she hadn’t spoken for a while, just gazed off at a spot on the wall directly behind Fitz. Fitz noticed the same thing and immediately jumped to conclusions. (His conclusion may or may not have been correct, however, that was not the point.)

“Jemma? What’s wrong?” he asked.

She was immediately snapped from her daze. “N-nothing,” she replied a little too quickly.

“Jemma.” He looked at her knowingly and grabbed her hand. Jemma’s heart picked up its pace at that one point of contact. “We both know something’s wrong. Just tell me why you’re upset.”

Jemma didn’t know what exactly caused her to blurt out what she did. She suspected it may have been the way he was looking at her with those _blue, blue eyes_ and the way he was holding her hand and the way that she felt so completely relieved and comforted all that the same time. Whatever it was, she ended up exclaiming:

“Because I love you, dammit!”

Fitz reeled back as if he had been slapped in the face. Jemma just couldn’t look at him like this. She could practically feel her cheeks and ears flush red with embarrassment. The awkward silence that followed soon after agitated her to no end. She had to say something—anything.

“And-and I know you see us as friends, and that you’ve probably moved on from me, and I just thought you should know. And since you probably don’t like me back, this could probably ruin our friendship, and I really don’t want that, so let’s just pretend this never happened, okay?”

Oh great, she was rambling. That was never good.

And Fitz was just sitting there looking dumbstruck.

When he was finally able to speak, Fitz said, “Y-you love me?” His voice was full of disbelief with the slightest hint of hopefulness.

“Yes?” She hadn’t meant for it to come out questioning, but it did.

“L-like—“

“More than that,” she completed. She still couldn’t look at his face, only at their clasped hands. They had never let go since he had grabbed it what felt like years ago. But now it was time to let go. But he immediately took it back. It was only then that she was able to look up at him.

“Jemma, wh-what makes you think I only wanna be friends?” His eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

Her heart soared at the possibility those words held. Then, she thought realistically. He probably only meant that he thought that they were friends and wanted to know why she thought that they were friends. Even though that was probably the stupidest explanation ever, she went with it.

“You said it a few minutes ago,” she murmured under her breath.

Fitz let out a half-laugh. “Jemma, I-I said that because I thought _you_ wanted to be just friends. I-I’ve never gotten over you. Maybe it was more obvious to me at some points than others, but it was always there in the back of my mind. I-I love you, too.”

It took Jemma a second to comprehend what he just said. Did he _really_ just say that he loved her back? _He did_.

Jemma’s face broke in two with a smile. She thought this may have been the happiest she had ever been in her life. And she just couldn’t restrain herself.

Looking into those blue, blue eyes, she couldn’t help but glance down to his lips. Oh god, how she wanted to kiss them.

And that’s exactly what she did.

She closed the space between them with more excitement than what was probably necessary, but neither of them seemed to matter much. The kiss was soft and sweet yet hungry and longing. It was exactly what she dreamed her first kiss with Fitz would ever be like.

It could have lasted an eternity for all they cared, when in reality, it didn’t last longer than a minute when—

“Ow, ow, ow, my shoulder!” Fitz exclaimed, breaking off the kiss.

Jemma was quick to notice that during the kiss, she had ended up pushing some of her weight on his injured shoulder, and quickly readjusted herself to help relieve his pain.

“I’m so sorry! Is it better now?” she asked. How could she have been so careless like that? She was never careless, but it seemed like when certain situations called for it, she was quick to respond.

“Yeah, as long as you’re here.”

Jemma couldn’t help but blush at his comment. She would eventually come to learn that Fitz could be romantic in the most odd of places.

“…And as long as you’re not putting all of your damn weight on my injured shoulder.”

_And_ moment ruined.

But Jemma couldn’t help but laugh at it. How could they have ended up here when just months ago, they were barely talking to each other? She didn’t know, and frankly, she didn’t care. They were together now and that was all that mattered.

She celebrated it with another kiss, careful not to hurt his shoulder this time.

It was probably not the most traditional way to start off a relationship of with the “I love you”s first, but they were never a traditional pair. And they were both perfectly fine with how they were.

Together. As they should be.


End file.
